


Lowering the Bar

by wanderNavi



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alcohol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 11:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderNavi/pseuds/wanderNavi
Summary: For someone so perceptive about battlefield tactics and camp politics, Robin remains oblivious to the most obvious facts about himself. This may be thanks in part to the persisting amnesia, Gaius allows, but he has a solid case that Robin is a kleptomaniac, even if the man doesn’t seem to realize it.





	Lowering the Bar

**Author's Note:**

> me: thrashing against my wips spreadsheet.

Chrom manages an escape, leaving Robin to his fate where Gaius claps him on the shoulder in a one-armed grab and says too cheerfully, “Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Bubbles.”

“Just – surely not,” Robin says from the trap of Gaius’ unrelenting embrace.

“It is! Come along, come along, the drinks are calling to us,” Gaius says and now there are two hands steering Robin through the camp towards the trail to the nearby town.

Robin digs his heels in on principle, smacking a hand over his pockets to confirm that yes, Gaius didn’t manage to ambush him this time without his money bag again. He cuts off his captor’s chatter, a hand clenched around the bag in protection against sneaking fingers, with “Fine, my treat then, I’m paying.”

“No, no, I’ll pay,” Gaius tries to argue.

“No,” Robin declares with one last attempted wrench at the camp’s threshold. “I’m paying, it’s my turn to pay, I have money this time and I’m not letting you steal it from me before the night’s over, Gaius will you let _go_ already.”

He doesn’t let go.

* * *

For someone so perceptive about battlefield tactics and camp politics, Robin remains oblivious to the most obvious facts about himself. This may be thanks in part to the persisting amnesia, Gaius allows, but he has a solid case that Robin is a kleptomaniac, even if the man doesn’t seem to realize it.

Gaius’ participation in Robin’s post battle routine began innocuously enough with Robin sending him out onto the field to scrounge up the arrows scattered everywhere that could still fire again. Then, a few weeks later, Robin conscripts him into lugging a cart through the fallen bodies, the medics still ferrying back survivors, to collect swords, spears, bows, money pouches, from the left behind Risen. The practicality of these exercises make sense in the context of Ylisse’s cash-strapped coffers, but Gaius has now watched him slip books that aren’t spell tomes, a particularly shiny helmet, shields with dented family crests, pried off jewels into the collection cart. Just the other day, Robin spent half an hour systematically collecting broaches from mages that had no business coming back out of the ground, stuffing them into a bag he flinched off a commander a month ago, and asked Gaius, “Can you get me that pin there?”

Books and scrolls also have a habit of floating into Robin’s quarters, rotating through his shelves with their true owners mostly unaware. He’s currently wearing one of Stahl’s shirts for goodness sake and Gaius knows it wasn’t lent out since this morning Stahl cornered him after breakfast asking after it.

Going by Frederick’s pinched expressions when he sometimes gives a second glance at Robin’s quills and notebooks, Gaius probably isn’t the only one who’s noticed. Frankly, it’s one of Gaius’ greatest forms of entertainment to watch Robin swipe some of Virion’s belongings without much of a second thought. It’s just as amusing to steal a few of Robin’s knives and books and watch how quickly he steals it all back with a faint frown.

So of course Robin notices Gaius swapped out his money pouch when they’re a block away from his preferred pub.

* * *

With Gaius, some things bear heavy repetition before it gets through the man’s head, so Robin yanks back his actual money bag at the entrance to Gaius’ favorite pub in this town. “_I_’m paying,” Robin reminds him.

“Come on Bubbles,” the other man cajoles. “It’s no fair making the lightweight pay.”

Curse his body for flushing in indignation. “You paid last time, and don’t think I didn’t see you pay for those books or that new roll of parchment or the ink or the maps. I’m paying, you don’t get to steal my money again, we’re not playing that game all evening.”

Gaius teleports them into a booth with an order for beer already tripped off his tongue. He grins at Robin, the way he does when they both manage to avoid the healers after a battle, one corner tugged higher than the other, eyes sparking. Just for him, grinning the way Robin sometimes catches him, leaning against a cart of swords scrounged from the dead Risen to replace the broken blades in their army, another sugared treat between his teeth. Robin stands there, hands stilled in an attempt to lift a claymore and thinks, _How the hells is his mouth not disgusted with all that sugar yet? What blood magic is he using so that his teeth are still that perfect?_

He flashes those perfect teeth at Robin, beers suddenly in hand, and passes one to Robin. They drink. In the corner of his eye, light flashes off the jeweled rings and bracer of a merchant sitting at the bar. A hand by another wall rises, smooth and soft from a life without hard, physical work, there’ll be expensive books when her drunken footsteps are followed back home. Robin recognizes a sword acquired several weeks ago at the side of a soldier also relaxing from camp. The music and rowdy voices mask the murmurs of footsteps passing just shy of too closely, fingers weightlessly pulling. There are many marks for Gaius to choose from here.

“Who taught you how to lockpick?” Gaius yells over the din.

“What?”

He repeats himself.

“No one,” Robin says and shrugs, “There was a book.”

Gaius huffs a laugh; there’s always a book.

“And I was bored, there isn’t much to do sometimes when there’s a lull. Seems like a useful skill,” Robin continues.

With considering eyes, Gaius agrees, “It is.”

* * *

Unfortunately, Robin retains enough sense of responsibility to keep from getting too sloshed too quickly and Gaius forces himself to keep pace. He snags Robin’s money purse again under the table. Several minutes later, Robin kicks him in the shin and snatches it back. Gaius watches his eyes keep straying to the merchant at the bar, drinking a dent into his profits, with more to spare going by the tunic and belt. If Gaius can get another pint or two into Robin, it’ll develop into full on staring.

He steals Robin’s money again instead.

Alcohol loosens Robin’s lips in the most fascinating ways as he’s submerging Gaius in a wave of, “course I understand we can’t strap armor all over the pegasi, the metal will weigh them down even further than the riders are already, but it’s a glaring weakness that arrows can take them down so easily. So tell me, have you ever seen mechanical replicants instead? Is there a way we can craft automatons that can fly instead and honestly if this can work, that might be even easier to train more air support. It’ll at least cut down the amount of horse shit everywhere.”

Robin also says things like, “then Donnel and I are sprinting down the hill, trying to catch it before it bounces completely away, but we didn’t realize Nowi was at the bottom and next thing we know, Donnel accidentally slams into her, knocking them both clean off their feet and tumbling. One of their arms knocked me over and then I’m suddenly eating dirt too, all while the barrel crashes through the underbrush and escapes into the river. We’re trying to dive in after it, but Nowi’s in the way, yelling at us about why we aren’t wearing our shirts or shoes.”

Gaius doesn’t completely follow the logic of his ramblings sometimes, but he finds his enthusiasm endearing.

* * *

Since sitting down, Gaius has stolen his money four times now. Robin stands up mid-sentence, wavers, drops the bag on his seat, and sits back down. The coins dig in uncomfortably. He squirms a little while Gaius watches with an eyebrow raised and half a smirk on his lips. Is it Robin’s fault he has a slight preoccupation with Gaius’ mouth if he keep sticking things in it and grinning around spun sugar treats that dye his lips a deeper pink-red?

The next time they’re both sober, alone, and not in a mission briefing or debriefing, Robin should probably do something about that matter.

He shakes his head, feels queasy, does it again slower. The grin is larger.

“How many glasses has this been now?” Robin interrupts himself.

“Only three,” Gaius says and that’s laughter, he’s laughing at Robin. Of course.

“Well… well maybe that’s enough. My head’s definitely feeling it. I’m definitely feeling it. I have to get up at dawn tomorrow, Frederick’s going to chase me down on horseback if I don’t, I have maps. Maps I need to review. You know, maps – look, if I’m going to be paying, then I need to be coherent enough at the end of this night to still be able to count out the correct amount of coins.” Robin should switch over to water, ugh.

Gaius pouts. “You’re still trying to pay. It’s no fun when you’re just barely past tipsy.”

Robin tuts, “Nuh uh uh, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Oh? that quizzical pull at the eyes asks, perfect teeth on display. How.

Robin looks into the pint in his hands and decides to drain it anyways. He’ll just get water next instead of a refill. “Last time you got me alone and drunk, you somehow talked me into … I’m still not certain, what I remember doesn’t really make sense. Regardless, I woke up on a pile of coats, none of which were mine. So obviously, you talked me into something.”

“I didn’t talk you into anything, Bubbles, that was all you,” Gaius says.

Why would Robin collect a pile of coats? He insists, “Can’t be.”

He gets a shrug. “Suit yourself.”

* * *

Since Robin can be a killjoy, he’s started drinking water while Gaius helps himself to more alcohol. “At dawn, Gaius, I am serious. At dawn,” Robin says. “I do need some sleep.”

He says this while watching the merchant finally stagger out the doors. In an aborted moved, he tries standing up too. As a good friend, Gaius gets out of his seat, ignoring how his balance sways slightly and gives Robin an arm to lever himself up with and lean on. Robin begins giggling. It’s low, barely on the edge of Gaius’ hearing, under the shouting of another table swinging into song. Robin’s temple knocks lightly against his shoulder.

“We need to spend more time together. Sober. When I’m sober. There are some things. I need to ask you something,” he’s saying.

“Sure,” Gaius agrees and pays the bartender from Robin’s purse.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m realizing I have an odd fascination with air support in Robin’s strategic ramblings.


End file.
